Takes His Rest

The moon rose red the sun took a fall, the stars colored blue stood there, with backs to the wall. On the hard ground the old cowboys eyes gaze to the west, the night quiet and cool as he takes his rest. Half way there to 'Old-Mexico', half way to where he aims to go. The past is past and a long time gone, he lays there tired and broken recalling how it all went wrong. Living was hard the days were rough, all he took was only barely enough. It's a weary trail the one he rides, but he'll keep it going just to arrive on the other side. He feels lightning between his ears, but no thunder will he hear. Laying out tonight holding it all deep in his breast, sleep comes in a soft silence as at long last, he takes his eternal rest.